A Fountain of Fluff
by LongSnakeMoan
Summary: A series of ficlets that can only be described as purest fluff. There will be no angst, no drama and no unhappiness. Just romance, friendship and unabashed fluffiness spanning a whole host of ships (except two.)
1. Beautiful Freak

**A/N: This contains crazy shipping, no drama and incredible amounts of fluffiness. Any relation to canon events and characterisation is entirely coincidental, this is all about the fluff. Sugary fluff that will rot your teeth from the sweetness. Also ****_really_****strange ships. Also there will be no Daria/Trent or Daria/Tom ficlets within because those are too bloody boring. **

Sandi knew that she and Beavis attracted a lot of attention, and not the good sort of attention either. She could see the looks on people's faces and hear the snide remarks as they passed by, though luckily they sailed right over his head otherwise he could snap. Everyone had a theory on why Sandi Griffin, former Fashion Club president and one of the spoilt, bitchy princesses of Lawndale had taken up with the easily led and terminally stupid Beavis. She'd heard them all. That Beavis had something on her and she was being blackmailed into being his girlfriend, though anyone who spent more than a minute with him knew that the concept of blackmail was way beyond his capabilities. That she was riddled with STDs and he was the only man who would have her. That they shared really weird sexual fantasies involving stuff Sandi had never even heard of and didn't dare look up. They all said the same thing though. 'Is she really going out with him?'

She'd met him when she'd gone back to Lawndale for Thanksgiving, a welcome break from college. She should never have gone, moved away from Lawndale for sure, but not to go to college or at least not to do the business major her mother had forced her into. That's when the headaches had started, splitting pains that had forced her into bed for days on end and it had hurt even to open the curtains to let in light. She couldn't keep up with the work and the more she tried the worse the headaches had got so the further behind she fell. When she returned home her father was already on his fifth scotch of the day and her mother had berated her the moment she walked through the door, ranting on about Helen Morgendorffer boasting about Quinn. At that point Sandi had felt so ill she didn't care if Quinn Morgendorffer had discovered a cure for cancer, AIDS and the common cold, she just wanted to lie down in a dark room and sleep but her mother had driven her from the house and into the prone figure of Beavis lying comatose in the street. She'd sat with him until he came round and went with him to hospital as he chattered away to her about coming to Lawndale to find diarrhea with Butt-head. The ambulance guys had thought he had suffered a major concussion and was delusional so had asked Sandi to stay with him a while longer while they ran tests. They'd been together ever since.

He brought out something in her that she'd long suppressed, a primal desire to nurture and protect him, especially from the equally stupid but stronger willed Butt-head. Sandi saw some of herself in Butt-head, he treated Beavis in much the same way she had treated Stacy back in high school, and the thought made her feel ill because eewww Butt-head. So to make up for the years of abuse she'd heaped on poor, soft hearted Stacy she protected Beavis from him, persuaded him that it was not 'pretty cool' to set his own hair on fire and foiled Butt-head's stupid plans before either of them could put them into practice via intimidation and threats to Butt-head and praise and persuasion to Beavis. And in his own way he'd backed her up when she dropped out of her business major and moved into nursing by cutting her mother's angry ranting about 'nursing was just the weak taking advantage of the strong' with a simple 'business sucks, cus like, you know, it's full of butt munches. And Sandi's not a butt munch.' They'd been ordered out the house and she didn't speak to her mother in weeks but it was worth it to finally be free from the obligations and expectations placed on her by her parents.

He wasn't like anyone she'd ever been with before. He was the strangest looking person she'd ever seen for a start. He resisted her attempts to cut and comb his high pompadour haircut or get rid of his Metallica t shirt, though he had agreed to swap his shorts for jeans. He had the biggest underbite in existence and a long nose that he liked giving her eskimo kisses with. Sandi was still trying to unravel the strange and sometimes disgusting habits he displayed. He was over excitable, volatile and she had to severely ration his access to sugar otherwise Cornholio came out and the only way she could keep up with him was by calling herself Cornholia and ensure nobody was threatening him. But with her he was sweet and kind, there was sometimes a flash of something inside his head that raised him above complete childishness and he had the sweetest, smallest nostrils that somehow evened out his sharp nose and made him perfect. There was still something of the old Sandi in her too, when the shape of someone's teeth or the size of their nostrils mattered, as freakish and weird as that sounded, especially to Beavis. Even nature's freaks are beautiful in their own way.


	2. Goodbye Highland

"Heard you're movin'."

The smell of cigarettes and cheap deodorant filled the still, stifling air around her as he sat down with a dull thump next to her on the bench. There was a rustle followed by the low whoosh of lighter fluid being sparked as Earl lit a fresh cigarette, offering one to Daria who shook her head. She was tempted to take one, just to see what her parents would do once they picked up on the smell but decided against it. They were bribing her into quiet compliance by giving her money and books in return for an easy move, she didn't want to risk them withdrawing their offer and leaving her with nothing but Quinn's abandoned fashion magazines to read during those long hours on the road. She shifted up slightly, giving him more room, and stared into the distance as the heat gave the playing fields of Highland High a soft blurred edge.

"Yeah, we go in a couple weeks."

"Where you goin'?"

"Lawndale."

"Lawndale? Where the hell is Lawndale? I ain't even heard of a Lawndale before."

"It's in Maryland. My mother got a new job at a law firm there and she and my father are dragging me half way across the country from one dead end, no hope town to another. The only good thing about it is that maybe this new place won't have uranium in the drinking water. If I get there and there's another version of Beavis and Butt-head I'm turning around and coming straight back here."

"Better the devil you know, right?"

"I guess."

Earl took a deep drag on his cigarette and the conversation lapsed into silence as Daria sneaked a glance at him and felt the corners of her mouth turn upwards at the look of deep concentration on his face. She doubted there would be an Earl in Lawndale, shooting and being shot at during class, giving a brick as their contribution for a time capsule and passing her a Valentine's card produced from within the pages of a dirty magazine. _To Daria. You look very nice today. Have a happy Valentine's Day. From Earl _. The last of the great romantics. One of a kind.

"Think ya'll ever come back here?"

"I don't know. Probably not."

"I wouldn't if I were you. If I were you I'd go and never look back. This ain't a good place for someone like you Daria. You got more brains than the rest of us put together, even Van Driessen and he's the cleverest guy I know. S'good to know at least someone gets out Highland alive once in a while."

"I'm different to people here Earl, different to you even. I don't think I'm better than you though."

He cut her off with an exasperated grunt and waved his cigarette around at the space surrounding them, gesturing at the school and the fields and the distant crowds of students, yelling and screaming as two seniors started to fight.

"Yeah, you are. I hope they treat you right in Maryland, that they aren't assholes to you like they are here. And if they are, well you tell 'em that that Earl's comin' for 'em then give me a call."

"Thanks. And Earl, I just..."

"You don't need to say anythin'. Let's just sit here for a while and be quiet. S'what I like about you. Don't have to talk crap to fill the silence."

They shared a smile and he patted her awkwardly on the shoulder, like she was one of his gang, like they'd ever had anything beyond a few stilted conversations on a bench at the back of Highland High. The moment passed and she turned her attention to the yells of Buzzcut breaking up the fight and the screams of girls at the sight of blood as Earl walked towards the rusty green car at the school gates that was beeping at him to hurry up and get his ass over there quickly. Neither looked back at the other, making that final break.


	3. This Is For Lovers

There were a lot of reasons why Todd Ianuzzi loved Jane Lane. He loved her because she was the first person in his life to not expect him to be the tough guy all the time, who didn't expect him to make all the decisions and call the shots and when things went to shit could then shrug it off and blame him. She was the first person who didn't think he was either thug hero of the year or he was a complete asshat, and before her Todd could never decide which one was worse. Jane looked at him as he was, the very visible bad and the hidden good, and decided she liked what she saw. He loved the way she could create amazing things out of nothing more than paint or pieces of scrap so effortlessly he couldn't even begin to figure out how she did it. The fact that she was the first woman he'd been with who wasn't interested in being someone's 'moll' and that she didn't demand money, rides and whatever status being the girlfriend of some small town thug brought. That she was the first person who'd made him think that maybe a life of drinking, fighting , screwing and drifting in and out of jail wasn't the best way to be. She was the first girlfriend he'd had who wasn't used solely for sex, for Todd she was the first woman who was more than a body. She made him laugh and sometimes brought him almost to tears and when they argued he wanted to rip his own ears off so he wouldn't have to listen to her yell anymore, which was more than he'd ever felt for anyone before. He loved how dark and thick her hair was and how it looked so different against her blue eyes. He loved how long her legs were and how fast she could run. He could listen to her talk all day in that low voice of hers and it made him laugh how when he tickled her on the underside of her arm when she wasn't expecting it she would start giggling in such a high pitch it still shocked him when he heard it. He loved that she got how hard it was for him to say 'I love you' and didn't try and force him to say it, that she knew that when he kissed her beautiful hair and squeezed her hand that was how he said it and she loved him back. He loved that she didn't make a big deal when he finally managed to say those three words either.

There were a lot of reasons why Jane Lane loved Todd Ianuzzi. She loved him because he made her feel safe and made her know she was wanted, two things nobody had ever made her feel before. That she wasn't second best, the 'will do until somebody better come along' poor substitute that she had been to others. With Todd she didn't have to hide behind a mask of complete nonchalance and pretend that life and everything in it bored her and she was from some cooler world than everyone else. She could be her, with the cool parts and the geeky parts and the bad parts on show and know that it didn't deter him. She trusted him too and knew he would never leave her, that if she stumbled he wouldn't let her fall. She loved his hands, how nimble and quick they were despite being big 'man's hands' that made hers look tiny in comparison. How he could start up any car and that he didn't care getting covered in oil and grease while he was doing it. She was eternally thankful how he accepted and in time had become close to Trent and understood that her family wasn't like other families and hadn't demanded an explanation or gotten annoyed or tried to distance her from them. He was the first boyfriend she'd had who she felt equal to and not the junior half of the partner, how if he had a decision he asked for her opinion too and didn't expect her to fall in line. That he gave her a needed kick up the ass when she felt herself slide into her old idleness and apathy. She loved how good he was in bed, how he seemed to know instinctively how to make her go weak. She loved his big, strong arms and his broad chest and how she liked to cuddle against it, which was something else she'd never done before. She loved the seemingly hundreds of shades of blond in his hair and how they glistened when they caught the light. She loved the little Texan sayings he would occasionally come out with and that he'd taught her some useful Spanish insults and endearments. She loved that he was the first person she'd ever said 'I love you' to and that in his own way he showed he loved her, no matter how hard it was for him to say it. She loved how since the first time they'd never stopped saying it.


	4. My Legendary Girlfriend

**A/N: This was written for ashk09 over at the PPMB who requested Upchuck/Andrea**

He never actually imagined that she would agree to leave with him, the nicest thing she'd ever said to him before was 'get away from me, you howdy doody looking freak.' The other choice words she'd used to describe him before had actually made him feel faint. In fact compared to one particular torrent of abuse she'd thrown at him once, howdy doody looking freak was up there as one of the nicest compliments of all time. But after all that Charles Ruttheimer III had always had a soft spot that Lawndale's very own gothic queen of the twilight hours, Andrea Chamberlain. Not Hecuba as she liked to claim.

"I was always that chubby loner kid growing up; you remember what I was like Charles. Mousy brown pigtails and those stupid pinafore dresses that my grandmother chose for me every morning, still thinking it was the forties and that we were still some rich family. Andrea Chamberlain, retro reject. When I became a goth I could wash all that away, be whoever I wanted to be and look how I wanted to look. I could even choose my name and start again. Andrea Hecuba has a nice ring to it, it sounds like the night."

Hecuba, Chamberlain, he didn't care. She was so beautiful, it was just nobody ever saw it. Andrea hid herself away from judgemental eyes, blending so far into the background people had barely even knew she was there. But he saw it and he knew. Charles saw the delicate nape of her neck that looked so fragile he only placed the gentlest of kisses on it. Her deep dark brown eyes that had the tiniest flicks of yellow round the pupil. The curves and contours of her body that were so perfectly formed and shaped that in his eyes she was exquisite. She rolled her eyes when he told her how beautiful she was, she was so used to be a figure of ridicule. He hoped if he told enough times she would start too believe it.

During those endless summer days that had stretched out in front of them before they went their separate ways to college he'd spent hours lying next to her in the shade of the trees, watching the smooth skin of her hands as she sketched her latest comic. He was in it again, not as her enemy but her friend and lover, Lord Charles the Worthy. Even 'grrrr, fiesty' was no longer the cry of the loser but a victorious cry used against tyrants and monsters in the final moment of battle. On their final day in Lawndale she'd given him a memento, a sketch of the two of them as Queen Hecuba and Lord Charles, regal and imposing, so different to life and yet still them. Reality and legend moulded into one. He'd pinned it to the wall of hisdorm next to a photo of her and smiled whenever his roommate or new friends commented on it, no doubt bemused at what was still their private joke.

"Chuck, who's this? She looks pretty cool."

"She is," he grinned and wished she could hear it; Andrea deserved every fine word anyone ever said about her. "She's my legendary girlfriend."


	5. Goodbye Lawndale

**A/N: This was written for 45Ranger on the PPMB who requested Daria/Jeffy. **

"Hey, Quinn's sister."

Oh great, here he comes. Jeffy of the Quinn Morgendorffer Stalker Sqaud, joy. He bounded over to her and skidded to a stop next to her, clutching a pristine copy of Othello. Maturing into adulthood she may be, but if Jeffy thought that this would woo Quinn then he'd taken one blow to the head too many during football practice. She hoped whatever piece of advice he wanted about her sister was a quick as Jane had planned a small 'going away to Raft' party for her at Casa Lane and she wanted to get there before the combined forces of the Trent and Jane Lane appetites and starving musicians decimated the pizza and candy supplies leaving her with some garlic and bread and blue M&Ms.

"Hey Joey, Jeffy or Jamie."

"It's Jeffy."

"I know, but I assumed that as you referred to me as Quinn's sister we were keeping things impersonal."

"Huh?" It took his injured through the brutalities of football brain a while to catch on with what she was saying. "Oh, I mean hey Daria. Sorry. I didn't mean to be rude, I just really wanted to talk to you and I guess I forgot my manners."

"You want to speak with me? Me? You do realise I'm not Quinn right? Or that I'm not going to do your homework for you."

He looked bemused and for a second she felt bad for giving him a hard time. Of all his friend he seemed to be the one with at least something going on in between the ears and he'd never given her a hard time. And he was kind of nice looking, if you liked that kind of thing. Where had that one come from? Daria Morgendorffer expressing an interest in a football player? Not in this world. She gave him a weak shrug of the shouldersto show she wasn't being entirely serious and he grinned at her. He was nice looking in any world, even in hers.

"You wanted to speak to me about something?"

"Yeah, Quinn told me you were going to college soon and I just wanted to say that I, that uh."

Jeffy's face flushed red and he dropped his eyes to the ground. Feeling that familiar prickle of heat in her cheeks Daria began to back away and scrambled around for something to say, for once lost for words. She wanted to know what he was thinking but equally wanted to run as fast as her legs would carry her. This was Jeffy, admirer of Quinn and football idiot. And how at this moment in time did she want to be closer to him. With a swift movement he pushed the book at her and grinned apologetically, the pair of them blushing furiously.

"This is for you. I just wanted to say good luck in college and that you'll kick butt wherever you go. And I uh, I really," He trailed off as she felt herself smile and mouthed 'thanks.' He bit on his lower lip and turned to leave. "Good luck Daria. Maybe I'll see you at Christmas?"

The flush in her cheeks felt pleasantly warm she realised and for once she liked the feeling.

"Maybe."


	6. In Our House

"Honey, I'm home."

Of all the greetings in all the world this was the only one that seemed to alert Trent to the fact he has returned. Tom could walk through the door sounding the nuclear warning attack signal, he could shout 'Trent, I want you right here on the doorstep' or bang a drum and still be greeted with silence from his boyfriend. But 'honey, I'm home' would be guaranteed to produce a sleepy 'hey' from somewhere within the house. He walked into the surprisingly clean hallway and in the reflection of mirror that hung towards the far end he saw the lean, astonishingly beautiful figure of Trent make his way towards him.

"Hey. I wasn't expecting you for hours, aren't you home a little early?"

"Its seven thirty in the evening. What time did you think it was?"

"I dunno, three or something," The silver from his many rings glinted in the light and Tom resisted the urge to take his hands and kiss them. It was wise never to make sudden movements around Trent when he'd just woken up in case it sent him into shock. "I cleaned this morning before working on some new songs. I must have fallen asleep."

"To be honest if you had been fully awake when I got in I might have been the sixth person at the firm this year to have had a heart attack. Don't ever do that to me Trent, I'm the only person there who isn't suffering from some chronic illness and I want to maintain my status as the firm Adonis. Besides, you look cute when you've just woken up."

He winked at his lover and in return received a wide, playful smile. The kind that made his heart skip a couple of hundred beats. Tom flicked through the usual bills and invites to corporate events that he seemed obliged to attend even though he usually spent the evening contemplating smashing his head into the obligatory ice sculpture to avoid another conversation about the stock market and Aunt Odette's hip replacement. Trent was singing under his breath in front of him, probably Spiral's latest song because he'd never heard you make my heart so mellow, like it's made out of butter and yellow,' He grinned as he collapsed onto the couch, he inspired that mellow, yellow butteriness. Him, written for him because he made Trent feel that way and he would never know how. Tossing the post on the coffee table he switched on the television and grinned as their guilty pleasure flashed up and called out, urgency present in his voice.

"Trent, bring beer. Duck Dynasty is on."

With a speed not normally associated with any member of the Lane family his boyfriend brought two beers and sat down on couch, slipping his arm around Tom's shoulders as he leaned against his chest. Tom felt the steady rise and fall beneath his cheek and traced Trent's calloused fingers with his own as they settled for the evening. He loved these lazy evenings that followed hectic days, when it was just the two of them and nobody else. He leaned up for a kiss and sighed as he got one, a kiss tasting of sweet chocolate. An evening in the Sloane/Lane cocoon house, warm, inviting and made just for them.


	7. New Perspectives

"For the final time Stacy, you look perfect."

"No, no, no. You don't understand Mack, these is a college event. College. They're so sophisticated and grown up and I don't want to be some silly little high school girl who makes you look stupid. I make myself look stupid enough already. The other day I was in History class and wasn't really listening when DeMartino asked me a question and I was so nervous I said 1776. He asked me about JFK during the Cuban Missile Crisis."

She started pulling bobby pins from her head, her thick brown hair falling down to her shoulders in waves and Mack had to supress a smile at the little frown playing in her lips. He knew how nervous she was about this presentation evening of his, no matter how much time he'd spent reassuring her. It wasn't surprising really; she'd been overshadowed by her friends and always chosen by idiots who didn't understand how lucky they were to spend time with her. They didn't want sweetness or kindness or someone who could make them laugh. They wanted confidence and the allure of being with the girl who had all eyes on her. Mack sat next to her at the dressing table and pushed her hair behind her ears, breathing in the heady scent of her perfume.

"You expect too much from college stuff Stacy. What will happen is that we make polite conversation with the faculty who will be making sure that nobody spikes the punch and you'll be introduced to a lot of students are just as nervous as you are. That is until someone passes round the hidden flask of whatever they've managed to smuggle in and then it kind of goes like a high school party, but drunker. Fun and stupid yeah, but definitely not sophisticated."

"But what if I make a fool of myself? What if someone asks me a question and I don't know the answer and I just say something stupid? I think I'd just cry and run out the room. And what if I wear the wrong thing, all those girls will be wearing cool college girl stuff and I'll just look like some stupid kid."

He pulled her towards him and pulled her into his arms, ignoring her half-hearted cries of 'watch my dress.'

"Stacy, listen to me. I have told everyone I know all about you. They know how sweet you are. How much you make me laugh and how you were there when I needed you the most, how you are everything to me. They want to meet you because they think you are cool. The only questions they'll ask are about you and just be yourself and not who you think you should be because they want to meet you. And you look beautiful; you always look beautiful even when you think you don't."

He leaned over and kissed her, marvelling at her soft lips and her sweet taste. She was so much more than she thought she was. She was a marvel really, his Stacy. Mack broke the kiss and smiled as she looked in the mirror, pushing her hair behind her ear. There was a confidence that wasn't there before.


	8. Tall Candles

Somehow she'd taken everything about her and everything about him and made it work in one room. Two completely different sets of interests, clashing tastes and contrasting views mixed together, it had all worked out perfectly despite every rational indication screaming that it should have failed at the first hurdle. The delightful mystery of Jesse and Tiffany was summed up in their bedroom. Guitars hung on the wall next to a large mirror framed by lightbulbs. A tall, wide bookcase storing the hundreds of records and CDs that he'd obsessively acquired over the years stood next to a high, slim chest of drawers store that hid countless items of make-up that she'd loving collected since being a young teenager. A jar of cotton buds stood next to a jar of guitar picks, framed album covers hung side by side with prints of old movie stars and expensive perfume was neatly arranged next to deodorant and cheap cologne that smelt faintly of patchouli. The only thing that marked them out as faintly similar was the matching tall white lily scented candles that stood on the bedside cabinets. They were expensive but worth it, the thing that had brought them together in the first place, a chance encounter in a mall.

"_Eeeewww. It smells funny in here. Is that smell your caaaaandles?"_

"Oh, uh yeah. It's supposed to smell of roses. Or tulips. Some kind of flower. Doesn't it?"

"Noooooo, it sort of smells like if you puked up baaaad potpourri."

"Oh, I thought chicks loved it."

"Only nice candles. Ones that make the room smell pretty."

"Damn, no wonder my last girlfriend threw the old one out the window. I thought she was just mad at me for eating the last of the ice cream. You think you could help me out here? I like the smell of them too, when I have a bath…..don't tell anyone about that."

"I won't if you don't tell anyone I've contoured my noooose."

"Cool."

Nobody had expected anything to last from that, that the guitar playing stoner guy and the fashion airhead of Lawndale could ever have enough in common to make it work, apart from being pretty but dumb. Life was a struggle for them, neither would claim to be Mensa candidates, but the struggle seemed lighter now there was two of them encouraging each other to do better, pushing themselves in a way they hadn't before. Jesse realised that Spiral could sustain him only so much and that if he wanted to do other things then he could. Tiffany had been able to look at herself in the mirror and see the beauty looking back at her, not the flaws she'd always seen before. Facing their fears head on, from the large ones that had haunted them for years to smaller every day upsets, had once seemed so distant and out of reach for them both and yet they'd been overcome through love and devotion and the knowledge that whatever happened they would have each other through every wrong move and right turn. The delightful mystery of Jesse and Tiffany. Happiness, desire, unwavering support and the appreciation of nice candles.


	9. Eighties Night

In a basement down a side alley off Dega Street was a medium sized club named Sunset. Throughout most of the week it catered for the youth of Lawndale over twenty one, either officially or with enough cash to bribe the doorman. However on the Thursday nights the darkness of the club gave way to cobalt blue and fuchsia pink strobe lights, the unlistenable din replaced by songs he could sing and dance to with people his own age. Thursday night was 80s night. Since his relationship with Janet had inevitably imploded he'd started going to Sunset every week, slowly making friends with a small group of like-minded individuals who like him felt caught in between the worlds of youth and middle age. At that moment the gang were throwing themselves around to 'Faith' while Timothy sipped the remains of his drink, waiting for her, his secret dearest one. As he was  
lost to the world he noticed a huge Pina Colada pushed in front of him, festooned with a blue umbrella floating on the top. He looked up and he felt  
himself smile. Here she was.

"Angela," It was Angela Li, but not the calculating severe suited principal who stalked the corridors of Lawndale High. Here she was dressed in one of those off the shoulder dresses and smiling warmly, her dress and lips bright pink. Remarkably beautiful. "You look wonderful. Pink suits you. "

"Thank you. I decided to take a risk for once and wore this, I hope I don't look too, well, desperate. I've not worn anything like this in years."

She waved over at the group on the dance floor, dismissing their whistles and hoots with a little shrug, and turned back to him as she sipped on her own drink. She was exquisite. Anthony referred to her as the 'old hag.' He didn't see her beauty, the brightness within the dark eyes and the way she moved in the lights of the club. He did and he was entranced by her. Timothy knew she wanted to dance, he could tell by the way she had started to sway to the music and he looked over to Malcolm behind the decks and gave him the sign. Whitney Houston faded into the next track and he grinned as he watched Angela as recognised the song. Their song. As 'The Power of Love' blasted from the speakers he held his hand out to her and motioned to the floor.

"You look beautiful Angela and I think that you would you like to dance."

She didn't need asking twice as she almost pulled him towards the dance floor, Huey Lewis starting to get into full swing. He slid his hands into  
hers and they started to move, not caring what anyone thought about them. Timothy drew her closer into his arms and picked Angela up singing to her, swinging her around as she began to laugh and kissed his forehead, leaving a sticky pink stain from her lipstick. This was their song and they laugh and dance and kiss to it all they like. He would never have guessed he would have fallen for her, but love was strong and sudden and powerful. Just like her.


	10. And Now For My Next Trick

She didn't know why she had agreed to help Upchuck out and be his assistant at his magic show when she just knew she was going to fail miserably at it. He'd convinced her that she was the perfect person for the job and for a second she'd believed him. Her mother always told her be good or be good at it and since she wasn't really good at anything she just had to be good and she so wanted to be good at something, which was how she'd ended up at the costume store.

"Stacy," his voice made her jump and nearly fell over in the changing room of the costume store like an idiot. "Are you okay in there?"

"I'm fine, I'm just getting changed. I'll only be a few minutes."

She looked at her chosen clothes and she resisted the urge to squeal happily. Piece by piece she carefully put on the little blue top covered in sequins, matching silky tutu and a sequinned headband complete with a long white feather. She loved clothes like this, ever since she was a little girl, and when she'd shown them to Charles he'd gulped and turned away for some weird reason. Feeling horribly nervous she felt a little sick as she started to draw back the curtain. Okay, deep breath. The light hit her as she stepped out the changing room and she felt a trickle of embarrassment as Charles' mouth dropped open. Oh, she looked like a dork, she just knew.

"I look horrible, don't I? Oh this is so stupid, why did I even say yes to this?"

"No," She heard Charles almost yell at her and looked at him in the eyes for the first time. He looked kind of cute actually, with this little shy grin on his face. "Stacy, you look amazing."

"Yeah right."

"I'm not lying Stacy. I'm performing magical feats of endurance as we speak to not fall at the floor before you in worship. We're going to have to be Ruttheimer the Prestidigitator and the Exquisite Ms Rowe. You'll be the most beautiful assistant there has ever been."

"Um, thanks. And thank you for asking me to do this, there are a million other girls better than me that you could have asked. "

He stared at her for a second and took her hands in his; looking at her so seriously she forgot where she was.

"No Stacy, there really aren't."

She looked at him and didn't really know what else to say. She'd always liked him really, even when he was being a creeper he'd made her smile and she knew there was more to him than that. Stacy wanted to get closer, to reach out and touch him and there was only one way to find out what he would do. She closed the gap between them and he was so close she could feel his breath on his face and saw him gulp and felt herself giggle nervously. He grinned, not his usual leer that had chased her away before but an actual smile. Her breath hitched slightly as she felt his lips brush across hers and she feeling braver than she'd ever felt before pulled him closer.


	11. Problem Solving

She'd spent the entire afternoon pressing at buttons on the machine. The old English lady with the beehive she'd ended up working for had decided she wanted Tiffany to be 'press one to whatever' voice lady when people rang. Patsy had come into the office at ten thirty, spent fifteen minutes asking Tiffany if she'd seen Vogue, spent another ten arguing on the phone with Harvey Nicks over them apparently stealing her McQueen exclusives and then had thrown a list of the new phone options she wanted recoded with a 'do this sweetie' before going to lunch at eleven fifteen. And she totally was going to do it right away but then she found the latest edition of Vogue and then went to lunch herself and by the time she'd made it back to the office at four Patsy still wasn't back and she'd forgotten where she'd put the list. And she sooooo didn't want to get fired so she'd called the only other person who would understand. Bubble. Bubble was like her, also working for some old English lady who was like fifty buttotally thought she was twenty two.

"So you've got to record some stuff on the what do you call it so that old bat can decide who she wants to call back. So she can like you know ignore all the fines and ring back Harrods when they've delivered her, her…. That fancy wine she drinks.

"Yeah. She came in the other day and freeeeaked ouuuut when she heard the other person doing it. She said I should do iiiiiit, because I'm international. But she gave me a list of what to say and I looooost it."

Bubble sat on the couch and looked up the ceiling, thinking about what they could do and Tiffany was so glad that she had a girlfriend like Bubble. Bubble had never told her she was stupid or that her clothes made her look fat and she was always ready to help her, never turning her away or telling Tiffany she was busy. She knew that Bubble was like her, always being told she was too dumb and that she was an idiot. But they weren't. Just because they weren't brains didn't mean they weren't good at other things. Like helping old ladies run their business and stay looking young, even if they didn't look it really.

"You know , you could do what I do when Eddie asks me to do something and I'm supposed to do it but it doesn't stay in my head so I don't. What's the word?"

"I don't know but I totally know what you meeeean."

"Well, I just make it up from what she normally asks me to do and its never gone wrong yet. I'll help you to think of what she might want you to do."

"Thaaaaaat's such a good idea. Let's do

it."

_You've reached the voicemail ofPatsy Stone. Press one if you are caaaaaalling about a delivery of champagne,press two if you are from Vogue or Tatler and want cloooothes or threeee if you have botox and if you're wanting money gooooo awaaaaay._


	12. Show A Little Tenderness

"Helen, get back here now. I said get back here now. I swear to God if you don't get back here now I will not be held responsible for my actions. Helen, _now_."

If you asked Todd or Slade or Nice Gina or Slut Gina what they thought of Daria DeMartino they would have said 'She's real quiet, she Earl's quiet girl.' In any other school she would have been marked down as a dangerous delinquent for some of the crap she'd done, everything from arson to possession of a weapon. But in Highland that stuff meant nothing. When the girls fought as hard as most of the guys that stuff was par for the course, especially if you hung around with Todd Ianuzzi and his crew. She was the quiet one, the clever one. Someone that had actually got  
respect from the guys for not immediately lying down on the backseat in one of their cars. Scared, on the other hand, was not a word that would have been used to describe Daria. But she was scared. She was terrified of her father when he came in from work with that look in his eyes, that one she would never be able to describe but signalled trouble. He'd had it when he'd got in that evening and the evening had spiralled from snarls and muttered insults to screaming accusations. Quinn had locked herself in her room and she'd got the hell out the house, hating herself for leaving her mother there but flight had won out over fight. So she'd fled, gulping back tears and running as fast as she could without stopping before she reached safety. Reached Earl.

He was holding her tightly to his chest, the only person she'd let that close, and she smelt the cigarettes and gunpowder on him, breathing it in deeply knowing if she moved away she'd lose that feeling of being secure. Earl stroked her hair gently and Daria tightened her grip around his chest as she screwed her eyes shut and by some sheer act of force chased away the echoes of the shouts and the screams in her mind. He was a remarkably steady man for all his infamous volatility and she was soothed by the rise and fall of his chest, the rhythm a steady beat that brought her down from the nervous heights she hated. When she trusted herself not to look so flustered and weak she moved away from his arms and gave her body a little shake. Get a grip Daria, you're not fucking Quinn. He shrugged and lit her a cigarette and that was another reason why he was amazing. He didn't look hurt or give her shit for not being all huggy kissy. She took a deep lungful and lay back on the bed, staring up at the pictures of pouty models and fast cars.

"Sorry about that. I didn't mean to go all damsel in distress on you. I just had to get out the house. Assholes are being assholes again."

"You want to me to go round? 'Cuz I will. Just say the word Daria and I'll kick the crap out that bastard. I'll make him wish he'd never been born."

"You better not; I don't want you to get in trouble because of that fucking idiot. Seriously Earl, don't go round there you'll only make things worse. Just leave it, I can deal with it."

"Daria."

She sat up quickly, knowing his rashness, and was going to tell him to leave it but before the words had even come to her throat, formulated in her brain even, he kissed her. Beautiful, deep, tender kisses that seemed to make her head spin and turn her into a form she never had been before. She wasn't Daria DeMartino, quiet local hooligan or terrified daughter of a howling father or cowering mother. She was something else, someone softer and gentler, allowing her to be someone she never could be anywhere else. Ignoring her earlier reticence she brought him closer to her as  
the kiss deepened and arms entwined around necks in a midst of signs and gasps. She felt closer to him in these moments than anyone else on earth. Her parents, sister, friends, enemies all seemed to recede away to such a distant nothingness so far away they might have never happened, seemingly caught between life and death and never wanting to leave that state. Earl broke the kiss first and she felt a slow smile form, an unusual feeling for her, and as he rested his head against her lap he kept the dull ache from home pulling her under again. Dust danced in the watery sunlight as it came to rest on knives, broken bricks and the dull glass of a photo of them as in the distance the low growl from the engines of cars grew ever nearer and broke the silence.


End file.
